


Dead Man Walking

by DanyellaSkylerSilverfire, notbug (KageKashu)



Category: Kingdoms of Amalur, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Graphic Description of Corpses, M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2019-10-26 03:51:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17738486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanyellaSkylerSilverfire/pseuds/DanyellaSkylerSilverfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KageKashu/pseuds/notbug
Summary: A man wakes up in a pile of corpses. He has no memory, no past to guide him. Not even a name.





	1. Mission: GTF Out of Here

The stench is the first thing he notices. It’s indescribable, and unbearable. It works its way in while he breathes, choking him before he even realizes what it is. 

The second thing is the pressure around his body. Perhaps without it, he wouldn’t be able to think past the assault on his nose, but he finds himself shifting, trying to find some free space so that he can actually move, and something cold and slimy slides down his face. 

That’s when his eyes open. For a moment, he can’t conceive of the horror of what he sees. Corpses. All around him, in various stages of rot. That’s what he’s smelling, and he gags before he can gather himself enough to struggle free of the weight of the corpses that are piled on top of him. 

His struggle eventually has results, and he stands upon the pile like some demented king, body curled forward around the nausea in his gut. He dry retches, several times, during his struggle free. Nothing comes up but a sour, burning taste. Beneath the pile of corpses, there is earth and stone, but surrounding him, there are nothing but more piles and dank cavern earth. 

A faint light trickles from somewhere distantly overhead, and there are lit torches somewhere off to his right, so he clambers down the pile, occasionally losing his balance and sliding, until his bare feet touch earth. The cool solidness of it is such a relief that he falls to his knees, exploring the feel of it with his hands. Sharp little rocks cut at his fingers, but the stinging is somehow novel. 

In the distance, something booms, and the earth shakes, dust raining from above as he stands again. Whatever that was, it doesn’t seem good, to his limited experience. There’s another boom, and the torchlight flickers. 

Well, he isn’t going to learn anything standing around, and he has the feeling that he had better hurry. Not that he knows why he has that feeling, but standing around in a cavern full to the brim of stinking corpses doesn’t seem like a good way to spend what time he has, either. 

His mission, he tells himself, is to get out of this place. Preferably, out of the cavern, but there are miniature missions that might eventually get him there. Firstly: Investigate the torchlight. He may not know what he’s going to find, other than a clearer view of his surroundings, but it’s a start. He only stumbles once, on his way, in spite of the low, flickering light. 

When he reaches the light, he finds an oddity next to one of the sconces. A desk, which bears inspection as well, if only due to the fact that he somehow knows what it was. There’s a messily scrawled note on top, about the disposal of the corpses, which brings his attention to the incinerator, and the blazing fire inside. There’s a lever attached to it, and as soon as he notices it, he has the urge to go and pull it. It only dumps the waiting corpse into the flame, but... There’s something oddly satisfying about the way the flames briefly change color and intensity. 

He shakes his head, and forces himself to continue his investigation, until he comes across a wooden door. A wooden door with another, somehow different corpse sitting in front of it, and a sword imbedded in the body, pinning it to the door. _Supplies,_ he thinks, pulling the sword free and watching the door creep open, now that it’s no longer pinned shut. 

There’s nothing to do but press onward. Which he does. Right through the giant rats infesting the tunnel, past the sounds of voices screaming for help- And he would help them, if only he knew how to reach them, even if all he has is a rusty sword and ragged pants. 

He doesn’t get a chance until the tunnel ends, opening up above a structure clearly made by hands, rather than nature. He... doesn’t know how he knows this, but there’s no time to dwell on it, as he finally has a chance to help one of the screaming voices. So he leaps down, and doesn’t look back. 

* * *

He’s dead. 

He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, only _he’s not dead!_ He’s confused and lost, and his head is so very empty, empty in a way that seems like it can’t be natural, but he’s _not dead_. 

Other than recognizing him as one of the corpses he and another man had been disposing of, Shirahiro proves to have very little information for him. Not even a name. At least, not a name he can call his own. No, instead, the red haired man has another name for him: Hirogane, the very same name that had signed the note he found before. 

Beyond the name, he’s told that he came from the Well of Souls, as had all of the other bodies in the caverns behind them. He just seems to be the only body that was also a success. _Reanimation,_ he thinks, then asks more questions, such as, who’s attacking them, and why? 

Shirahiro’s answers only leave him with more questions. Who are the Mist-nin? What are White Zetsu? What’s this about a war? At least he understands concepts such as war, and that Mist-nin are enemies - another concept that he doesn’t need explained. 

Helping Shirahiro escape quickly becomes one of his missions, as does talking with this Hirogane. Other things come first, such as decent equipment, some of which he stripped from the Mist-nin he kills. Soon he has sturdy trousers, an armored vest and actual boots replacing the rags he woke up in. A better range of weaponry is found soon after, and he finds himself weighing the benefits of each type of weapon as he gains it. 

The sword has range, but is rusty and ragged edged. The bow has greater range, but is terrible for an enemy who is close. Switching back and forth between the two works well enough until he gets the daggers - excellent for assassination, quick to use, but short and dull enough that they don’t do much damage. 

A more amazing discovery had been the cave blossoms, and what it means when they bloom. That apparently he has a chakra of his own inside of him, and Shirahiro encourages him to try to access it. It took a few false starts before he found what he was reaching for, and when water lifts from the cave floor, it feels... natural. So much so that he has difficulty paying attention on the next leg of their journey. 

The giant spiders they ran into shortly afterwards dim his enthusiasm slightly, but they aren’t difficult to fight. 

Eventually, there are more men and women, and for a moment he’s nearly taken for one of the Mist-nin - understandably, as he’s been looting them for their armor - before being given a chance to find more suitable equipment in the small armory and being sent on his way again. He does take them up on the offer. Lighter cloth, and a sturdy, if old set of armor later, and he’s ready for the next leg of his mission. 

The laboratory of this Hirogane character, and he’s eager to meet him. 

* * *


	2. Mission: Acquire "Tobi" (Success)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hirogane told him to find "Tobi," and he will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So I'm aware that I've been... not on much lately, but... here's to things looking up! I hope!

It seems like hours later, that he stumbles into sunlight for the first time in memory, and he’s dazzled by the shades of green and blue, gold and brown that surround him. It takes a moment before the stink of the caverns clears from his nose, but once it does, he nearly swoons at how sweet and clear the air is. It’s all too much, and he feels like a foul piece of refuse unearthed from a midden.

He’s suddenly struck by the intense desire to be clean.

There’s bright, clear water just off to either side of the stone path, and he leaps into it before he even thinks to wonder if he can swim.

The water closes over his head, muffling the world, and he doesn’t think to close his eyes, or his mouth, and water floods in. Not into his airway. Somehow, his body knows what he doesn’t, reflexively preventing him from inhaling the water, before he kicks, pushing himself back upward, toward the surface.

Turns out, he _does_ know how to swim, and the crystal clear water is a perfect place for it, warm and deep. Fish nibble curiously at his clothes, and he ducks his head back under, to scrub furiously at his hair. The water isn’t quite enough for him to feel truly clean, but by the time he slogs out, onto the shore, he feels much better.

Little rivulets run down his face, and he licks at them when they reach his lips. Somehow, he knows that this water is particularly good water.

There are more people on the bridge, and a couple of them are watching him, eyes wary - one more sharply than the other. This one approaches him while he’s still shaking the water off, and contemplating what to do about the water still in his boots.

“You’re the one from the well,” the man says, eyeing him up and down with a strange expression.

Not that he understands what the expression means. Everything feels so new, and he has no frame of reference to understand most of what he sees, hears, feels. “That’s what I’m told.” He studies that expression, committing it to memory. Perhaps he’ll understand later. Something in the man’s eyes is disquieting, and he memorizes that, too.

“Hirogane tell you anything useful?” the man asks.

He ponders the question. He was given _information_ , that’s true. But he’s not certain what makes information _useful_. He can’t even say he understands the information he was given - Hirogane talked a lot, but... “No,” he decides. If he could understand it, perhaps it would be useful. It had been _annoying_ , but he still remembers every word. Even if it turns out to be pointless.

“I... see.” The man shuffles his feet for a moment. “My name is Mizukyō. I’m the commander of this base.” He waits with poor patience for Mizukyō to make a point. Which he _doesn’t_. The man spends longer than necessary eyeing _him_ instead. His dark eyes flicker back toward the other end of the bridge, that leads to the crumbled exit. “Was there anyone else alive in there? Hirogane, maybe?”

Last he saw Hirogane, the man was cutting through several White Zetsu, heading deeper into the base. “He was alive last I saw,” he says. The man was strong enough to get through the Zetsu, and those creatures are stronger than the Mist-nin. He’s confident that the talkative old man is still alive. On that note, he still has a final instruction to follow. The last piece of his self-imposed mission. “Do you know where I can find a man called ‘Tobi’?”

Mizukyō flinches, and it’s nearly as fascinating as the sparkling world around them. “Tobi?” he coughs. “He’s... usually about halfway to the next town. Hirogane must have told you about him. You’re probably wasting your time, whatever it is you want from him. He’s a sodden excuse for an ex-shinobi, these days.”

* * *

He knows ‘Tobi’ when he sees him, though it’s more than sight that confirms it. It’s a feeling. A feeling that the man sitting in the small camp, singing softly to himself is _bigger_ than he looks. Hirogane felt a little like that. So did Mizukyō. But _Tobi_. Tobi felt so much bigger than them, even if his eyes tell him that he’s about the same size.

The man in the clearing, that he knows is _Tobi_ , has streaks of grey in his thick black hair, which is twisted into a large knot at the back of his head. There are lines on his face, and deep, dark splotches under his closed eyes. Even at this distance, in spite of the lines, those lips look soft and lush, triggering a shock of _something_ up his spine.

They open, and then a rich, deep voice spills forth, “What do you want?”

“I was told to come find you,” he says, and Tobi jolts upright, eyes flaring wide as he twists in place to stare at him. “A man named Hirogane sent me, though I’m not sure why.”

Tobi’s face pales, but his eyes spin from black into red - a fascinating whirl of color, in a world full of fascinating colors. “Senju Tobirama,” Tobi says, voice fainter than before, eyes still shock wide.

His eyebrows pucker. “Is... that your full name?” he asks.

A soft exclamation, and the man glances down, then back up at him. “No. It’s _yours_.”

That. Can’t be right. “I was told that _you_ are Tobi.”

Tobi’s face runs through a complicated series of expressions, but his voice is soft when he replies. “You don’t know me, do you?”

“Should I?” It makes sense, in a strange sort of way. If he’s _dead_ , that means that at some point, he must have been alive, right?

“It’s _Madara_ ,” said Tobi, leaning forward, voice growing intense along with his expression.

_Madara,_ , he thinks. It doesn’t feel familiar, not like ‘desk’ and ‘sword.’ “What’s ‘Madara’?”

Tobi stares for a moment, then claps a hand over his eyes, hunching forward. “You were never that obtuse. _I’m Madara._ That’s my name. Not Tobi. And _you_ are Senju Tobirama. I could never mistake you for someone else, even if you sound like an idiot right now.” The man continues grumbling, as his hand slides down to cover more of his face.

_Senju Tobirama_ doesn’t sound any more familiar than _Madara_ , but... If that man is Madara, and _he’s_ Senju Tobirama... why would Hirogane have told him that Madara was ‘Tobi’? He finds himself grumbling to himself, deeply annoyed at the prospect. “It would be better if I was given accurate information from the start!”

The man who _isn’t_ ‘Tobi’ lets out a bark of laughter, sharp and rude, echoing in the small clearing. “Now, you start sounding like yourself!” The tone of Madara’s voice is new all over again, and he doesn’t know what it means. “Why are you here, Tobirama?”

He can feel his own face twist, though he doesn’t know the expression he’s making without being able to see it. All these things he doesn’t know frustrate him. “I _told you_. A man who called himself Hirogane sent me to find a man called ‘Tobi,’ which I thought would be _you_.”

Madara’s expression morphs again, into something just as new as the last. “Hirogane knows me as Tobi. You didn’t used to be so obtuse. Gods..."

So Madara _is_ ‘Tobi’? “You could have told me that ‘Tobi’ was also correct,” he complains, raising a hand to rub at his forehead, where an ache is beginning. “Because it’s either that, or Hirogane gave me bad information.” That’s probably worse than useless information.

“It isn’t my _name_ ,” Madara replies, sighing gustily. He drops back to where he had been sitting, lips twisted down and to one side, and picks up one of the nearby bottles. “This. Isn’t productive. Whatever Hirogane wanted, it’s too late, anyway.”

“You.” He stops, takes a deep breath. He needs to take more care with his words, it seems. “You are my only clue as to what I should be doing. I don’t know _anything_ useful! When he sent me to you, I hoped to learn... something. Even if only what I need to learn.”

Madara’s shoulders pull together, and he shakes his head. “I’m done with all that. The village, the clan. Whatever the hell it is that _you_ would want. There was no one there when I needed help, so why should I get involved?”

There should be something he can say, but he doesn’t know _what_. He doesn't know anything about himself, or what connection he might have once had to Madara. He doesn’t know about the village, or why Madara might have needed help. “I don’t know anything about any of that,” he finally says. “I’m not asking you to get involved. I’m asking for direction.”

“That’s getting involved,” Madara snaps back, then sighs heavily. He’s weary, and for all it isn’t a sensation Tobirama - it feels right to call himself that, strangely - knows well, he can feel it from Madara, deep and aching in a way that makes his chest hurt. “I can’t just leave you to wander around, unknowing of the world. Only... only at my worst, did I ever want you dead. Now..." He shakes his head. “I don’t know what I feel. Fine, fine. If Hirogane sent you to me, he must have had a reason.”

That’s what Tobirama has been thinking, but he holds his tongue, somehow knowing that speaking his mind will only provoke Madara. And provoking Madara might make the man change his mind about helping him. “What can you tell me?”

“I’m not telling you shit, Senju,” Madara grumbles, but Tobirama waits. “I’m taking you to Uzu. To your clan’s allies. It’s what you would have wanted. More importantly, it’s what Hirogane would have wanted, and he’s... been a friend.”

**Author's Note:**

> Shirahiro: “White Sea” 白海  
> Hirogane: “Sea Gold” 海金  
> Mizukyō: "Water Mirror" 水鏡
> 
> I have no updating schedule for this one. It will come as it comes. As ever, in any of my work, if I have something that _really_ needs an explanation, or I forgot to tag something, be sure to let me know, so I can fix it!


End file.
